


The Wolf Games

by StereKDestiel



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Death, M/M, Profanity, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 16:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StereKDestiel/pseuds/StereKDestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Hunger Games AU where Allison and Stiles are the tributes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf Games

**Author's Note:**

> Finally figured out how I wanted to end this fic, so I thought I might as well start it.
> 
> I realized that I wanted a single chapter for District 12, and a single chapter for the train trip to the Capitol, so I decided to redo the first chapter, expanding it. So, re-read it so you don't miss anything.

“Seriously, Dad?” Stiles Stilinski stared at the bright yellow suit that his father had laid out for him.   
  
“You seriously expect me to wear that again?”  
  
“I’m sorry, Stiles. I couldn’t afford another suit. It should still fit.”   
  
“Okay, how about I don’t go to the Reaping, then? Because I’d rather be dead than be seen in public in that _again_.”  
  
“Stiles.”  
  
“I know,” Stiles groaned. “Stupid Reaping. Fuck. Fine.”  
  
“Only two more Reapings to go, then we’ll never have to deal with it again.”  
  
“Yeah, thankfully,” Stiles mumbled. “Get outta here so I can change.”  
  
Stiles’ father kissed his forehead and smiled as he left the room. Stiles stared at the suit and rolled his eyes. He started shrugging his clothes off. After he had put the suit on, he stared at the mirror. He had gotten taller since the last Reaping, so the suit was a little short at the ends, exposing his wrists and ankles.   
  
“I look like the fucking sun. Again,” Stiles groaned. He sighed and left his bedroom, finding his father in the kitchen.  
  
“Doesn’t look _that_ bad.”  
  
“It’s too small.”  
  
Papa Stilinski shrugged. “You’ll only have to wear it for a hour, max. You’ll live.”  
  
“Unless they draw my name, then the entire Capitol will laugh at my misfortune until the minute I die.”  
  
“Don’t even joke about that.”  
  
“Alright,” Stiles said, grimacing. “Sorry. See you there.”  
  
Stiles stepped out of the house and groaned. Immediately, people were staring at him. He waved them off and set off for his best friend’s house. He passed several people who were sniggering at him, including the richest guy in the District (although the District itself was pretty poor, so he wasn’t that rich), Jackson Whittemore.   
  
“You’re wearing that again?” Jackson mocked.  
  
“Go fuck yourself,” Stiles cursed. Jackson broke out in hysterical laughter, tears falling down. Stiles scowled and banged on Scott’s door.  
  
Melissa, Scott’s mother, opened the door and gaped.  
  
“Oh dear,” she said. “That again?”  
  
“Yes, this atrocious creature again,” Stiles said. “Can we just go now, Scott?”  
  
Scott popped out of nowhere and stared at Stiles.  
  
“Just shut up, and I hate your normal clothes. Let’s just go.”  
  
Melissa smirked and slapped Scott’s back and shoved him out of the house and slammed the door, shouting “See you guys at the Reaping!”  
  
Scott grinned and put his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and they walked off to the center of the town for the Reaping.   
  
District Twelve wasn’t very big, so the amount of teenagers standing in the designated zones wasn’t as high as it would normally be in the other districts, which upped the chances of being picked for the Hunger Games. Stiles wasn’t too worried, though. He never took the tesserae, since it was just him and his father, so his name wasn’t entered in the raffle too often.  
  
“What if they pick Allison?”  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes. Of _course_ , Allison.   
  
“They’re not going to, don’t worry. She’s made it through six Reapings already. This is her last. She’ll be fine. I’m personally worried about Lydia, do you realize how many tesseras she’s taken? Twenty-four of those papers have her name on it.”  
  
“Okay, neither of them will be picked,” Scott said. “We’ll be fine.”  
  
“Yeah, exactly,” Stiles said, although he knew Scott wasn’t convinced.  
  
They entered the boys designated zone and stood. They were pretty similar in height so they stood only a few spots away from each other. Jackson stood a few spots to Stiles’ right, a row behind, near his best friend, Danny. Jackson nudged Danny and pointed at Stiles, sniggering. Danny, being the perfect human being, rolled his eyes and ignored Jackson.  
  
“I love you, Danny,” Stiles shouted. Jackson glared at him, but Danny smirked and gave Stiles a wink.  
  
Danny really was awesome.  
  
The time for the Reaping to begin had come and so the chaperone for District Twelve stepped out of a door and walked up the stage. A woman Stiles knew as District Twelve’s only victor, ever, followed him out of the door and sat at one of the chairs.   
  
Stiles hated her. He tried to avoid her but considering she was the aunt of the woman his best friend was in love with, he was pretty fucked. Kate was her name, and assholery was her game.  
  
The man who came out of the door ahead of Kate cleared his throat and exhaled into the microphone. He was a pale-skinned man of average size with maroon hair that was rather slick with gel. He wore a maroon suit as well, with white stripes across the hem of the sleeves.  
  
“Hello, boys and girls! My name’s Finstock. Coach Finstock. You can call me Coach, or if you prefer, Cupcake!”  
  
Stiles and Scott looked at each other and rolled their eyes simultaneously. His voice was grating against their ears.  
  
“Welcome to the Reaping! Oooh,” Finstock said, rubbing his hands. “I wonder which one of you lucky boys and girls are going to be selected? Perhaps this time it’ll be you in the bright yellow suit,” he pointed to Stiles. Stiles glared back at him, ignoring Jackson’ giggling. “So bright and cheery! You must really want to be selected. That reminds me of the boy who wore a yellow suit last year! That wasn’t you, was it?”  
  
Stiles would have given anything for the ground to open up and swallow him. _Anything_.  
  
“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” Finstock reached over to the bowl and paused. “Oh wait, that’s right! Of course, as usual, here’s a message from the President of the Capitol!”  
  
The white screen behind Finstock turned on and Stiles nodded as the President, an old man with snow-white hair, blathered about the usual crap. Stiles had gotten so used to seeing that same video, he just tuned it out. Instead, he scanned the girls section, searching for Lydia. He found her standing, looking like a superstar, with her strawberry blond hair curled over her shoulders and red lipstick staining her lips.   
  
Stiles knew how terrified Lydia really was, but Lydia was also hardcore. She’d never show her vulnerability to anyone.  
  
“Wonderful message, Mr. President!” Finstock practically shouted. “Now, we shall begin! First, the ladies, of course.” Finstock dipped his hand into the bowl and swirled the slips of paper around before pulling one out.  
  
“Not Lydia, not Lydia,” Stiles muttered.   
  
“And the lucky lady is... Allison Argent!”  
  
Stiles’ mouth dropped. It wasn’t Lydia, but he had never thought it would be Allison. He looked over to Scott, who was staring at Finstock. Some of the girls started shoving Allison out of the line and the peacekeepers grabbed her and led her to the stage. Scott wildly looked at Stiles then at Allison, worry and fear spread across his face.  
  
“I VOLUNTEER!”  
  
“Oh, whoa! We have a volunteer? Who said that! Speak up!”  
  
“I did!” Scott shouted.  
  
“Oh dear,” Finstock said. “I’m sorry, but you’re not a girl. You can’t volunteer for a girl. I’m so sorry. Do feel free to volunteer when I announce the male tribute, though. Allison Argent, come on up.”  
  
Stiles groaned, watching Scott’s body slump in defeat.   
  
“I’m so sorry, Scott,” Stiles whispered. Scott looked at him with a pleading look, as if Stiles could do something about it. Stiles looked away, closing his eyes.  
  
“So, Allison Argent! Welcome, and congratulations on being the female tribute for District Twelve! How do you feel?”  
  
Allison gulped. “I’m good. I’m going to represent District Twelve well.”  
  
"You're an Argent, aren't you? History is on your side! Your aunt is the only District Twelve tribute to have won the Games! Perhaps you'll get lucky!"  
  
Allison gave Finstock a small knowing smile. That was it.   
Stiles was impressed with Allison’s posture. She held herself well and handled the news well, much better than Scott was. Out of any of the girls at District Twelve, Allison was probably best equipped to survive. She had a relative with experience in Kate, and her parents trained her. She was the best archer Stiles had ever seen. There was probably nobody else who would have been a better pick.  
  
Doesn’t change the fact Scott was in love with her, though. And it wasn’t one-sided; Allison loved him too, even though her parents didn’t approve. Stiles didn’t want to see Scott’s heart break.  
  
“Okay! And now, the male tribute! And it is...,” Finstock said, swirling the papers in the glass bowl. He picked one up and read it out loud.  
  
“Not me, not me,” Stiles muttered.  
  
“Scott McCall!”  
  
Stiles froze. Scott froze.  
  
“Scott McCall! Where are you?”  
  
Scott choked back a sobbing laughter. Allison’s firm face broke and she gasped, murmuring and shaking her head.   
  
“No, no, not him, please,” Allison whispered, but her words reached the microphone and was heard by everyone. Finstock raised his eyebrow at her as the boys around Scott started pushing him toward the passage to the stage and Scott stumbled.  
  
“Oh! What an interesting twist, the boy who tried to volunteer for Argent is now the male tribute! Yes, yes... how very interesting,” Finstock mused.  
  
Stiles finally snapped out of it. His best friend was going to have to kill his girlfriend if he wanted to come back. Or, the other way around. Either way, Stiles couldn’t let Scott live with that on his conscience. This time, he could do something.  
  
“I volunteer!”  
  
“Oh, another volunteer! Is the volunteer the right gender this time?”  
  
Stiles raised his hand. Danny shot him a glare and said, “What are you doing, Stiles? Don’t.”  
  
“Yes! And it’s the sunny boy!” Finstock shrieked. “Come on up, boy!”  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes at Finstock. “Can’t let Scott go,” Stiles answered. Danny just stared at Stiles as he made his way past everyone, and into the opening where the peacekeepers were waiting. When they led him past Scott, he mouthed, _Why?_  
  
“I’m going to make sure she comes back to you safe and sound, bro,” Stiles said, smiling. “Don’t worry.”  
  
Stiles kept walking, and he didn’t look back. He didn’t see Scott stammering, trying to react. Stiles got up on the stage and waved to everyone else. He could see his father standing in the back, by Melissa, tears falling down his cheeks with a pained look. Melissa was crying as well.  
  
“So, what’s your name?”  
  
“Stiles Stilinski.”  
  
“Bilinski! Tell us, why did you volunteer for McCall?”  
  
"It's Stilinski," Stiles said. Then, he put on his best shit-eating grin. “Because I’m the best damn friend anybody could ask for.”  
  


\-----------------------------------

  
Stiles was sitting in a small room, waiting. Allison was in the room adjacent to his. They had been led there after the short interviews on stage, and now they were waiting for their loved ones to arrive, then they’d be shipped away to the Capitol.    
  
Where Stiles was going to die.   
  
Stiles was going to make sure Allison survived, though.   
  
The door opened and Scott stood here, Melissa behind him. Scott’s eyes were puffed red and there were tears streaking down his cheeks.   
  
“Oh come on, Scott, don’t cry,” Stiles began. Scott just shook his head and cried harder. He grabbed Stiles and held on tight, as if he’d never see him again. Which he wouldn’t.    
  
“Why did you do that, Stiles? Why?”   
  
“Dude, I can’t let you kill Allison. You love her. I can’t let you deal with that, so I’m going to make sure she comes back.”   
  
“But, I’m going to lose you. And what if you fail? What if they kill her too? Then I lose both of you. I can’t lose you both,” Scott sniffed.    
  
Stiles shrugged, which was hard to do since Scott’s arm was draped over his shoulder. “I don’t care what they do to me, I’m just going to get her back to you safe. I promise you that.”   
  
Scott had nothing else to say, he just held on. Stiles refused to cry. He just vented by hugging Scott harder.   
  
“You’re such a brave boy,” Melissa said. “Foolish, but brave. Thank you, so much. And I’m so sorry. I... I don’t know what else to say.”   
  
Stiles just smiled, and Melissa understood.    
  
Then, the peacekeepers came, dragging Scott away from Stiles.   
  
“Stiles, they won’t let me see Allison! Just, tell her --”   
  
“I know, you love her. I’ll tell her,” Stiles said as Scott disappeared from his view. Melissa smiled sadly and blew him a kiss before leaving the room as well. Stiles collapsed onto the chair and took some deep breaths so he could push away the need to hyperventilate.   
  
The door opened, and the person that stood there was not who Stiles thought was coming next. He expected his father. Instead, Danny stood there.   
  
“What are you --”   
  
Danny shut him up by kissing him. Stiles moaned and melted into Danny’s embrace and opened his mouth so their tongues could meet.   
  
After a few minutes, Danny broke off the kiss. He looked at Stiles who laughed and said, “I guess that answers my question.”   
  
“Yes, Stiles, I’ve always thought you were attractive, but... not as attractive as you are right now. Stiles, please, come back. Do whatever you can, and come back.”   
  
“Danny,” Stiles whispered. “I’m not coming back.”   
  
“Don’t say that, you’re smart, you can --”   
  
“Danny, I volunteered so I could help Allison come back. I did it for Scott. I’m not coming back.”   
  
Danny stare at Stiles, his lips quivering. “Damn it, Stiles, just... You better bring her back then. And promise me, if Allison dies, you come home. I mean it.”   
  
“Yeah, okay, I promise,” Stiles replied, because he had every intention of surviving if Allison didn't. Of course. Danny kissed Stiles one more time before the peacekeepers dragged him out. Again, Stiles dropped down to the chair and groaned.    
  
_Why now? Fuck me. Damn you, Danny._   
  
His father came next and before Stiles was even standing up, he had been swept into the tightest hug his father ever gave him.   
  
“I’m sorry, Dad, I know --”   
  
“Don’t, Stiles.”   
  
Stiles shut up and hugged his father.    
  
“I’m so proud of you, son, no matter what happens. I’m not happy about what you did, but I can’t be mad. I’m just... really proud of you.”   
  
“Dad...”   
  
“Son, do your best, okay?”    
  
Stiles’ father looked into Stiles’ eyes and smiled. “You remind me so much of your mother. You’re just like her. So brave, so protective,” he whispered and kissed Stiles’ forehead. “I love you so much.”   
  
Stiles gave in; his tears won.   
  
“I’m sorry Dad, I didn’t --”   
  
“Stop apologizing, Stiles. You’re doing what you think is right, and that’s how I raised you. I am so proud of you, do you understand that?”   
  
Stiles nodded, wiping his tears away. His father pulled something out and looked at it.   
  
“Dad, what are you doing with that?”   
  
“Stiles, this is yours now, I --”   
  
“No, Dad, don’t give that to me. I’d just lose it out there, please --”   
  
“Stiles, it’s okay. I trust you, you’ll be fine. Take it. It’d mean a lot to me. Please.”   
  
Stiles stared at the pin his father was holding. It was a silhouette of the head of a howling wolf in front of a triskelion surrounded by a circle of flames, each of them a different layer. The triskelion was the third layer, the ring of fire was in the middle, and the wolf was in front. It was silver and extremely old.   
  
“It brought me luck. I met your mother because of that. Maybe it’ll bring you luck too.”   
  
“Dad, I’m not --”   
  
“I know, Stiles. I know,” his father said, “I know.”    
  
It took six peacekeepers to peel the Stilinskis apart, and one of them got a nasty black eye courtesy of an elbow from Stiles. Stiles did not give a shit. The last thing the Stilinskis said to each other was simply, _I love you._   
  
The peacekeepers ushered Stiles and Allison in front of the train that was going to take them to the Captiol. Kate was already inside, and Finstock was waiting for them at the door.   
  
“Tributes! I trust you’ve said your goodbyes. Please, do board the train, so we can begin our trek to the Capitol, and to the Hunger Games!"

 


End file.
